Heaven Enough
by Bunny MacCool
Summary: When the end of your life comes, what words can you say to those you are about to leave behind?


**Title:** Heaven Enough

**Author:** BunnyMacCool

**Rating:** R ... for the situation

**Genre:** Drama/Angst... BEWARE deathfic!!

**Fandom:** 2003 cartoon/movieverse

**Summary:** When the end of your life comes, what words can you say to those you are about to leave behind?

**Disclaimer**: If I owned TMNT ... Leo would bleed more... and Raph would angst ... a LOT. (Although the movie came DARN close... obviously my powers are strengthening)

HEAVEN ENOUGH

_**oxoxoxo**_

Thick and bubbling and warm, pushing through his teeth, dribbling over his lips. White hot copper and iron, like red lava, flooding over his hands. Pooling beneath his body. Unstoppable, unrestrainable, try to call out and it just chokes. Gags. Steals away your air. The pain is all encompassing. Not even sure … can't even tell where the wound is. What the wound is. Just tears and pain and horrible gasping sobs.

He tries to push it all aside, to rise above, to ignore… has to find his brother before his body is allowed to be swallowed up in this quicksand of blood and pain. Has to find Mikey. Needs to know he shielded him in time. Forcing his hands to reach in the darkness. Reach for skin. For shell. For little brother.

Little brother finds him first. Hands grabbing roughly and words barely heard over blood soaking his mask and clogging his ears. Can hear his name. Again and again screamed like an angry mantra into the sky. Frantic babbling from baby brother's lips as he tries to call for help. Tries to reassure. Tries to persuade him to open his eyes. He thought his eyes were open.

More molten iron filling his mouth, he pushes at it with his tongue, feels it waterfall down his chin. Down his neck. Into his shell. He keeps pushing until his mouth is empty. Not much time. Not much time left to say what he needs. Reaches for the face he cannot see. The face he knows is there. The face he doesn't need his eyes to imagine in his mind.

"Mikey."

The words are broken and wet and thick, like his tongue, but there is a response from above. His voice was heard. Was understood. Hands are gripping tighter. Fingers pushing against something sharp and acidic in his gut.

"Love … you … Mikey. Love … you."

Roaring in his ears blocks out all other noise. Noise but not feelings. Feelings like frantic hands ghosting over his body. Wet tears dropping onto his face. The tang of salt even bests the overpowering copper. Rough, hot hands gripping his shoulders and shaking.

"Not … your … fault. Not … yours…"

But his mouth is full again, and it takes more effort to push his heavy tongue forward to free his words. His body has relented and allowed itself to drown in the pain. So much so that it has been pushed to the back of his senses. Just a tickling issue in the darkness. Not a matter to be worried over. Not as important as his words.

"Mikey … tell … Don … tell … Raph … love you. Not … your… fault. Mine. Mine."

There is no longer any sound at all. He can't even be sure that his words are winning the battle to pass through his lips, into the air, to be caught by someone who needs to hear them. Cannot be sure, but tries still anyway. Tries so desperately to put the millions of things he wants to say into the few that he is actually able.

Wants to tell his little brother that things are better this way. Better that the big brother protected him so that his sun wouldn't sputter and fade. Better that the ghost who only lives a life cast in shadows be tossed away. A million times better than the jewel and glue that holds the family together being taken. Infinitely better.

All these things he wants to say. All these things time now denies him. All these things … he must fit into the last couple words. The last he'll be able to push from his lungs.

The last.

"Sssokay… Mikey…. It's … enough…. Ssssssenough…"

And it feels like the earth is shaking. And it feels like he's caught in a vice … a warm, supple one. And it sounds like choruses of angels are calling his name. Tracing a pattern of sound into the heavens for him to follow.

If he's allowed. If he's allowed in Heaven. If not … if he was allowed to stay here and watch his brothers … that would be Heaven enough.

Heaven enough for one such as he.

Then all that he knows, and all that he is, fades into the darkness … and his final thought is a prayer for a Heaven that gives him his brothers.

_**oxoxoxo**_

End.


End file.
